Monday

paraphenila

Always the para tied to the wheat the tares and seed busted over the seaming jean thigh and the keel. and the red sun, the scarlet crimson its choice this forever

boom blossom and the phren penned by the scent
its JIll's monkey paw and your whore translator retired to Ism temples and religion. Capped by deadbattings, deadbeats O Prophet !


__________________And memorabilia? is that the stochastic thing? Come along your pen to this tit this vulva past its rough hermitage and the fire burnishing city wet streets.




_________________not a dialectical rough song but its purchase on the plane of affects!~
you swindler!

____________________________Here she 'sutured' burying the point ! sward undergourd to its swearing heat
___________________________________



____________________________Mona leans 'out the window' its a Parisian street view the tenement blocked from all the glory of god ~ . and her shadow phase made no phrase.